


Men in Suits

by glymr



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Superman Returns (2006)
Genre: Crossover, Help Haiti, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then he breathed a sigh of relief, because there was only one thing on earth *that* fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men in Suits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ksha2222](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ksha2222).



> This was written for help_haiti, specifically for ksha2222 's request. I hope she likes it! Special thanks to isilweth for a helpful beta!

Cover by the FANTASTIC [](http://ctbn60.livejournal.com/profile)[**ctbn60**](http://ctbn60.livejournal.com/)  


 

He wasn't going to make it there in time. Tony poured on the speed, breaking the sound barrier, breaking every barrier he *could*, pushing the damn suit _past_ its damn limits, but he still wasn't going to make it in time to catch that stray missile before it hit the village.

Suddenly he began to tumble, and he cursed. It took him several seconds to right himself again and realize that he'd been caught in the wake of something *much* faster than he was. And then he breathed a sigh of relief, because there was only one thing on earth *that* fast.

Sure enough, when he finally got to the village minutes later, the crises had long since been averted. People crowded around Superman, speaking to him in their own language...and he responded to them in the same way, Tony noted. That was interesting.

He watched as the...man?...answered to the villagers' expressions of gratitude with smiles and nods and the equivalent of, "No ma'am, just doing my job." Eventually he extricated himself and rose into the air, the people still waving to him and reaching out to him. Of course, there were also the ones that hung back in the shadows, terrified of him. Tony had no doubt that Superman was just as aware of them as he was of the others. Possibly more so.

To his surprise, Superman paused in midair as he came even with Tony, and held out his hand. "Thank you for all the good work you do," he said.

Bemused, Tony shook the hand that could have crushed his suit with little effort. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

Superman gave him a small, sad, startlingly _human_ smile. "Even I can't be everywhere," he said.

* * *

God, he was bored. He looked around the room full of shallow, vapid, predatory people and sighed. Once upon a time his way of dealing with a party like this had been to become the life of it, after getting thoroughly smashed, of course. Since that option wasn't open to him, at the moment, and since the obnoxious people in the room were paying enormous amounts of money to benefit the Relief effort in Haiti, he was stuck here for...he glanced at his watch...for, oh, another _hour_ at least. He'd done what he could in the aftermath of the 'quake, flying out in his suit and helping search for survivors. Now, a month after the event, he'd been guilted into helping out another way. Pepper always *did* know how to push his buttons--

"Whoa!" The thought was interrupted as somebody stumbled into him, nearly spilling a glass full of something clear and bubbly down the front of his shirt.

It was self-defense, as much as anything else, that made him catch the man's arm and steady him. "Looks like *you've* had a bit too much, Mr.-- " he glanced at the man's Press Pass "-- Kent," he said, then scowled at himself. Had he really just said that? The same kind of stupid inanity that people always said to *him* when he was drunk off his ass, and that he always _hated_?

The reporter fumbled and steadied himself, looking embarrassed. "Oh _no_ , Mr. Stark," he said earnestly. "I never imbibe on the job. I'm just," he glanced down, then met Tony's eyes again, his own gleaming with self-deprecating amusement behind his thick glasses, "I'm just a klutz. I'm _so_ sorry."

Tony's eyebrows went up. The arm under his hand, had, for the brief moment of contact, given him the impression of hard muscles and intense warmth. This guy might not have much taste when it came to clothes, but it was pretty clear he had to be putting in some serious time at the gym. In Tony's experience, guys like that usually had a certain natural athleticism. It was unusual for them to be 'klutzy'.

He waved a hand dismissively. "No harm, no foul," he said with his best charming and slightly insolent grin. It usually made men want to punch him, but the ladies fell all over themselves for it.

Kent didn't look like he wanted to start swinging, though. He was looking at him like Tony was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. The feeling was mutual. If Kent worked hard to get such a great body, why was he hiding it under layers of poorly-fitting clothes, rather than showing it off?

"You should interview me," said Tony abruptly, giving in to a sudden impulse.

Kent's blue eyes widened. "I...I should?" he stammered. "I mean--"

Tony rolled his eyes. *This* guy was one of the Daily Planet's star reporters? Still, he *was* the most interesting person Tony had talked to that night. "Next Friday," he said. "My place. Dress--" his eyes flicked over the other man's suit for a moment, "--*up*," he said.

"Uh...sure, Mr. Stark," said Clark. "I mean, thank you. I mean--"

Tony waved his hand again and walked away. "Six o'clock," he said. "Don't be late."

* * *

Perhaps predictably, *he* was the one that was going to be late, Tony thought as he swooped down and pulled two more people out of the window of the burning building. He set them down well away from the danger, then turned back.

It wouldn't be long before the neighboring buildings caught, he thought, and he'd used up his reserves of fire-retardant spray already. He really needed to work out a more efficient formula - maybe if he could turn it into a mist instead of a gel -

A blast of cold air came from above, as out of the clouds came Superman to the rescue once again. Working quickly, he put out the fire and then dove into the building, coming out soot-stained and carrying a small child Tony hadn't even known was *in* there.

"Damn. You're pretty amazing," said Tony after the child had been returned to its weeping mother and the fire crews had taken over.

Superman just shrugged. "I do what I can," he said. "The real heroes are the people that actually risk their lives. People like them," he nodded to the firefighters and EMTs, who were cordoning off the ruined building and comforting the survivors, "and like you."

Tony cocked his head inside the helmet. "You really believe that, don't you?" he said.

Superman nodded. "Of course. Don't you?"

Now it was Tony's turn to shrug. "With powers like yours, you could do just about anything you wanted," he said. "Yet you see it as your duty to help people. That seems pretty heroic to me."

Superman looked away. "I suppose it must seem like that," he said. "But the truth is, there are lots of things I want that I can't have." He turned that inhumanly blue gaze on Tony again, his expression rueful. "Maybe that's why I want them."

"Story of my life," said Tony, smiling back and wondering if Superman could see it through his helmet. "Story of my life."

* * *

Kent was waiting when he got back, looking awkward in a slightly nicer suit and tie than the one he'd worn last week. Tony suppressed an urge to offer to dress the man *properly* - with his own slovenly style he really shouldn't be criticizing others - and gave him the slightly apologetic yet charmingly careless smile he reserved for such situations. "Sorry I'm late," he said casually.

"Oh! That's all right," said the reporter, adjusting his glasses. "I got stuck in traffic myself. There was a fire or something, and the freeway's a mess."

"In that case, we'll take the jet," said Tony.

"...jet? Where, exactly, are we going, Mr. Stark?"

"Please, call me Tony. And to answer your question, not too far," said Tony, "as the crow flies."

* * *

After Tony had ordered for both of them, since Clark didn't speak the language, Clark pulled out a small device and set it on the table. "You don't mind if I record the interview, do you?" he asked. "It's much easier to get quotes right if I have an exact record."

Tony shrugged, making no effort to hide his amusement. "I don't mind," he said.

Clark looked at him oddly for a moment, but loosened his tie (setting it askew in the process) and said, "You're very open with your identity as a superhero, Mr. Stark--" Tony raised an eyebrow, and Clark corrected himself, "--Tony. Aren't you worried that this could put your loved ones in danger?"

Tony took a thoughtful sip of his drink. "I don't have too many loved ones," he said.

"Come now, Mr.--Tony, surely you have people whom you'd do anything to protect?"

"*Anything*?" Tony shook his head. "No one can say that, Clark." The other man opened his mouth, but Tony held up a hand. "I understand what you're getting at. But does it really make a difference? If someone took a random kid hostage and threatened to kill it if you didn't do exactly what he said, wouldn't you feel obligated to do what he wanted anyway?"

"Well...*yes*," admitted Clark, frowning, "but it doesn't seem like quite the same thing." Their salads arrived at that moment, however, and he didn't pursue the theme. After a few minutes he asked instead, "Do you find it difficult to maintain your privacy, being both a superhero and a prominent wealthy businessman?"

Tony chuckled. "I was famous long before I was a superhero," he said. "You get used to it. I don't hide my business practices or worry about whether my date ends up on the cover of 'Person' magazine with me, why should I hide this other part of my life?"

Clark just shook his head. He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he said, "You're known for being more...lethal...than some of your fellow heroes.

Tony's face darkened. "Yeah, well, when someone holds a gun to an innocent man's head, preparing to shoot him in front of his wife and children...as far as I'm concerned, he gives up the right to a fair trial at that point, assuming there really is any such thing." His hand tightened around his glass. "I don't have special powers like a lot of those other people. I'm just a guy in a suit." He polished off his drink and set the empty glass down with an angry 'thump'.

"The suit *does* give you special powers, though," said Clark softly.

Tony snorted. "I think you're more interested in Iron Man than you are in me, _Clark_ ," he said. "Maybe I should have worn the *other* suit for this date?"

"Date?" Clark blinked at him, his eyes wide, and Tony felt his irritation start to ebb away again. "I thought this was an interview?"

"Wellll," Tony drawled, " _yes_ , but do you usually conduct interviews in such--" he gestured to their surroundings "--exotic locales?"

"Most of my interviewees aren't as...eccentric as you are, Tony."

" _Touché ,_ " grinned Tony.

"So..." Clark hesitated, then blurted, "When you told me I should interview you, you were actually asking me on a *date*?"

Tony looked at him rakishly, and Clark blushed. "Oh. I, uh. Oh. But don't you usually date...women?"

" _Usually_ isn't the same as _always_ ," said Tony.

"Oh." Clark was staring down at his food, looking thoroughly flustered.

Tony took pity on him. "I'm kidding, Clark," he lied.

"You are?" Clark's head shot up, and for a moment he actually seemed...disappointed? Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "*Were* you?" he asked.

"Sorry. I couldn't resist teasing you," said Tony easily. Clark was watching him, a curious expression on his face. "Shall we get back to the interview?" asked Tony.

Clark smiled, a wide, sweet smile, and Tony felt his heart skip a beat. Why was it he always seemed to want what he couldn't have?

* * *

"When do you need to be back in Metropolis?" Tony asked, scooping up the last bite of his decadent chocolate torte.

"No time in particular," said Clark, looking down at the remains of his own desert - an apple thing with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. "Actually, tomorrow's...my day off."

Tony reminded himself that Clark hadn't wanted anything more than an exclusive interview, but found himself speaking anyway. "I have a suite here," he said. "Why don't you come up, and we can have a nightcap?"

Clark blushed again. "I don't think...that would be a good idea," he started.

"Oh, c'mon, Clark! Live a little! My intentions are pure." _Mostly._

Clark blushed harder. "Well...if you insist..."

"I do," said Tony firmly, and stood up.

"Now?" said Clark, looking slightly alarmed.

"No time like the present," said Tony. _And I don't want you to change your mind._

"But, the bill--"

"Oh, they'll put it on my tab." He wrapped his hand around Clark's upper arm - he'd been right, the man was all hard muscle and heat beneath that bad suit - and pulled him with him, out of the restaurant and into the elevator. Tony slipped his room key into the special slot for suite access, then turned to Clark. For a moment he caught a heated look in Clark's eyes before the other man blinked and looked away.

Hmm. Perhaps Tony's instinct hadn't been wrong, after all.

When they reached the correct floor, Tony gestured for Clark to follow him into the suite. Clark stopped short in the doorway, staring around the immense room.

"What do you think?" asked Tony, mildly amused.

"It's like something out of a movie," said Clark in a voice of awe. Tony laughed and swung around, only to find Clark standing closer than he'd thought. The laugh caught in his throat as he stared at Clark's mouth.

"...Tony?" asked Clark, sounding slightly breathless himself.

Tony swallowed. "Sorry, Clark," he said with a chuckle. "You just...startled me." He pushed past the other man, closer than necessary, and felt him shiver as his body slid for a moment against the hardness and heat. Dropping his keycard on the small table next to the door, he said, "I always have to leave my key out, otherwise it ends up in my pocket and I forget about it after I take off my pants." Then he turned back to his guest, once again surprising an unexpectedly molten expression in Clark's eyes.

Before the other man could blink and look away again, Tony locked gazes with him, pinning him and holding him with a look. Stepping forward, he tilted his head just slightly and pressed his lips to Clark's.

_Heat_. Clark's mouth was so *hot*, like he'd just swallowed a mouthful of scalding McDonald's coffee, but he tasted like cinnamon and apples and...and something else, something *different*, like no one Tony had ever kissed before. A sound hung in the air, and Tony realized it had come from Clark's throat, a sound of alarm and hunger and _want_.

Tony pulled back a little. Clark's eyes were wide and worried behind his thick glasses. "I...I can't...I shouldn't--" he stammered. Tony touched his cheek, then snatched off the glasses - or started to. His wrist was caught in an iron grip before they were halfway off. "What are you doing?" asked Clark.

"They're in the way," said Tony, pulling fruitlessly at the fingers encircling him. "You don't need your glasses when you're being *kissed* do you?"

"But I..." Clark's hold on him loosened fractionally, but did not release. "I want to be able to _see_ you, Tony."

Frowning a little, Tony said, "Are you nearsighted or farsighted?" Because the glasses were halfway down Clark's face, and he was staring into Clark's eyes, such an unreal shade of blue, and Clark didn't seem to be having any trouble seeing him whatsoever.

Clark's hand spasmed around his own, then opened, allowing him to finish pulling away the ridiculous things, but as soon as he was free of them he turned away. He combed a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled and falling into his eyes. "Neither," he said.

"Oh. What is it, an astigmatism?" Tony peered through the glasses, then paused. There was no distortion. He slipped them on his own face, gazing through the clear lenses with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. "These aren't..." He yanked them off and looked at Clark. "Why would you..."

"I can explain--" said Clark quickly, but Tony threw up a hand to stop him, his mind racing.

"You don't need these," he said after a moment. Clark didn't reply, still not looking at him. "You wear them...why? Because you don't want people to see your face. You want to disguise yourself. You want to look the part of the reporter. To be *underestimated*. What are you, a spy? Or..." He sucked in a breath as a sudden flash of intuition hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. "Oh my god," he whispered.

Clark...stilled. He hadn't been moving before, but now he seemed frozen in place, a statue that didn't so much as tremble as Tony moved to stand in front of him, reaching out to push his hair out of his eyes.

"Look at me," said Tony. Clark's eyes flickered up to meet his own for a moment, then dropped again. "Look at me!"

Blue, *unearthly* blue eyes, and how had Tony not seen it sooner? "Jesus Christ," he breathed, wiping a hand across his own face. "You're...you're _him_."

Clark... _Superman_...took a step back. "This was a mistake," he said, and his demeanor was suddenly entirely different. Gone was the shy, nervous, clumsy reporter. In his place stood an alien being, cold and utterly confident. And yet...there was still color in his cheeks. Still something in his _eyes_ , and Tony took a step forward, even as his instincts were screaming at him to back away.

"A mistake?" he said, allowing a leer to creep into his face and voice, "Oh, no." He cupped Superman's chin and leaned forward. "Not a mistake," he whispered against his lips. "Not a mistake at all." Their lips came together again, and _oh_ , no wonder he tasted strange, felt strange under Tony's mouth and hands. He wasn't even from this *planet*. The thought excited Tony more than he'd thought possible, made him feel the way he always did when he'd come up with a new idea for the suit and couldn't *wait* to try it out.

But Superman was gripping his arms with those impossibly strong hands, was pushing him, holding him *away*, even though Tony was certain, as certain as he'd ever been of anything in his life, that Superman was turned on, too.

"I'm sorry," said Superman, and his tone was final, inarguable.

Tony argued anyway. "You don't have to be," he said, putting every ounce of suggestiveness into his tone that he could manage.

Superman just shook his head. "It's dangerous," he said emphatically. "Much too dangerous. I...I could hurt you."

That moment of hesitation made Tony's heart skip a beat. He threw back his head and laughed. "I fly around in a homemade metal suit faster than the speed of sound," he said. "I've been skydiving and hang-gliding and deep-sea diving. I've been captured by terrorists and I've fought supervillains. What on _earth_ made you think I wanted 'safe'?"

Superman just blinked at him for a moment, looking stunned. "But--"

Tony snorted and struggled in the other man's grasp. "Let me _go_ , dammit." Superman's hands flew open reflexively, and Tony darted forward the moment he was free, pressing his mouth to the other man's again. Superman groaned.

"I can't do this," he said, shivering. "Tony..." There was a low, husky quality to his voice that sent a thrill ripping through Tony's body. " _Tony_..." Tony just pressed his advantage, shoving his leg forward to rock his thigh against Superman's hard-on - which was *very* hard, indeed.

All at once, Superman seemed to snap. Tony found himself sailing across his suite and then onto the soft bed with a little "Oof!" Superman's hands were on him, determined and unstoppable, tearing away his clothes like they were made of tissue paper. Adrenaline surged through Tony, the familiar sensation of being on the edge, about to jump off into oblivion, always the same and yet different. The first time he'd stepped out of an airplane, the first time he'd flown in his _suit_ \- his wonderful, dangerous suit - it was just like those moments. Because in a few seconds there would be no going back.

"Superman," he gasped, his voice shaking, "*Clark*--" Using his false name only seemed to inflame Superman more, though. The man...the alien...growled and lowered his head to Tony's neck, kissing and sucking his way down Tony's chest. Tony reached out, trying to touch in turn, but found his hands pinned down to the bed at his sides instead. Clark sucked hard on his nipple, then breathed a gust of chill air across it before taking it into his mouth again. Tony threw his head back with a yell, feeling his cock pressing and pumping precome into his underwear, the only article of clothing Superman hadn't destroyed. Yet.

"Maddening man," said Clark. "Brilliant and beautiful, and so _uninhibited_. You don't hide anything of yourself, do you? You show everything, tell *everything*--" he gasped and licked at Tony's other nipple, tearing a hoarse shout from him. "You brave, stupid, wonderful man!" Tony couldn't speak. Superman's hands were everywhere, tracing down his sides, gripping his ass, clutching his thighs, kneading his feet, tracing his palms with superhuman speed...everywhere but his cock.

"Clark," he begged in what would have been an embarrassing way if he'd had any sanity left, "Clark, *please*."

Clark shuddered. There was a shift of movement, and then _heat_ , heat and wet and suction those hands hadn't stopped and oh _god_ oh god ohgodohgodohgod...

With a wordless, whimpering cry, Tony felt himself shatter, felt the last ounce of his soul being sucked out right along with his come. The hot, demanding mouth swallowed him and drank him down and seemed not even to need *air*, and there were no words, no thoughts, just the insane pleasure that seemed to go on and on until it was too _much_ \--

"I can't...I can't..." he moaned, pushing lightly at Clark's head. Clark pulled off immediately and sat back on his heels. He didn't cough, didn't wipe his mouth. He didn't need to.

"Clark," Tony panted, "Clark, that was...that was..." He opened his eyes. Clark was looking at him, a serious, hopeful expression in his eyes. "...amazing," finished Tony.

Clark's lips curled up into a smile. "I've never been with someone with...when I had my powers," he said almost *shyly*. Tony just stared.

"You really are 'Clark Kent', aren't you?" he asked when he could speak again. "It's not just...it's not all a put-on, is it." Clark dropped his eyes and nodded. Then he looked up again, meeting Tony's gaze, and started to undo his own slacks. He was somehow still fully dressed. Tony watched him, watched him tug down his pants and underwear, his erection hard and dark and subtly different from any he'd ever seen, though Tony couldn't quite put his finger one what the difference *was*, other than the foreskin. Maybe he only thought so because he knew the _truth_. He licked his lips. Clark wrapped one big hand around himself and began to stroke, smooth, even motions that made his body jerk and the bed shake.

"Wait," said Tony.

Clark stilled, looking desperate. "You can't help," he said. "Even if it were safe, you couldn't...it wouldn't be...enough."

"I know," said Tony softly. "But..." he sat up. "Can you fly us back to my place?" Clark blinked.

"The jet--"

Tony cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. "We'll come back for it," he said. "You're faster. _Can_ you? Will you?"

Clark whimpered, but opened his hand with a spasm. Moments later Tony saw a flash of blue before being swept into a world of red. He tugged down the cape enough to see, but the cold wind stung his eyes and face, so he pulled it back up over his head and settled in to enjoy the ride. It wasn't long at all before Clark drew to a stop, hovering high above Tony's estate.

"There's a secret entrance to the basement," said Tony, and proceeded to explain how to access it. About two seconds after he'd finished, there was a quick sense of vertigo, then the red was swept away and Tony looked around with satisfaction at his lab.

"Perfect," he said with a grin.

"Welcome home, sir," said Jarvis, and Clark actually jumped a little.

"Jarvis, this is our guest, Superman."

"I see," said Jarvis, and Tony felt his mouth quirk, because the AI actually sounded *impressed*. "Welcome, Superman. Can I get you anything?"

"Oh, ah, no," he said. "Thank you...Jarvis." He was looking around, his eyes wide. Lowering his voice, he asked, "So this is your _secret lair_?"

Tony couldn't help it, he laughed. "I guess you could call it that," he said. "Jarvis, get me the new part I was working on, would you? I need to try the fit again." He held out his right arm and watched as the sleeve and glove of the metal suit assembled around it. When it was complete, he made a fist and gazed at it lovingly, the smooth metal, gleaming in red and gold and able to exert quite a ridiculous amount of pounds per square inch thanks to the miracle of modern technology. "Oh, I'm going to need some of that food-grade lubricant, too. The one they use when they repair suburban water pipes?"

The AI's voice had no inflection. "Very good, sir." A robotic arm brought out a small white tub and obligingly removed the lid.

"Thank you, Jarvis," said Tony. "That will be all."

"Yes, sir," said Jarvis.

Tony turned to Clark, whose eyes were wide. "Take off your clothes," he said to the alien.

Clark was breathing heavily, and for a moment Tony feared he was about to fly off and not come back, but then there was a 'whoosh' and Superman stood before him, stark naked.

Tony's breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed.

Clark was perfect.

He almost seemed to glow, even under the lab's harsh florescents. Every muscle perfectly defined under his flawless skin, every bone in his structure symmetrical, Clark resembled nothing so much as a young _god_. For a moment Tony felt a shiver of trepidation - who was *he* to be doing this, to be touching such perfection? The glove felt like a toy on his hand, pathetic next to the unmatched physical beauty of the man before him.

Then his natural confidence - some might call it arrogance - returned, and he grinned. He was *Tony Stark*, that was who, and *he* could give Clark something no one else could. He took a step forward, and then another, closing the distance between them and watching as Clark's eyes dilated, his breathing so rapid that he was almost panting.

When he was close enough to touch, Tony stopped. "Show me," he said.

Clark nodded and wrapped a hand around himself again, sliding and stroking. Tony bent down, his eyes never leaving Clark's hand, and smeared the gauntlet with the lubricant, smoothing the greasy stuff over the palm and fingers. It was innocuous, harmless stuff, but very slick. When the glove was well-coated, he reached out and grasped the end of Clark's cock, gripping and gliding down as Clark groaned and let go.

"Tony..." he moaned. Tony made a fist with the glove and Clark jerked, thrusting into it.

"Lie down," said Tony, and Clark drifted downward onto his back, Tony never releasing him. When he was on the floor, Tony straddled Clark's legs and shifted and tightened his grip, increasing the pressure. Clark's eyes flew open and he made a sharp sound.

"Too much?" asked Tony, but Clark was shaking his head.

"No... _please_ don't stop!" he cried, and Tony tightened his hand again. "More..." groaned Clark, and Tony doubled the pressure, making Clark jerk. Only the lubricant was allowing him to slide within the circle of Tony's hand. "More," he said again, panting. Tony tightened the glove half-again as much, which was the highest setting, and hoped it would be enough.

"Yes, yes, _please_ ," begged Clark. Tony began to stroke, moving his hand up and down, and Clark shuddered and writhed in his grip. A slow grin spread across Tony's face as he realized that there was nothing, _nothing_ like having the most powerful being on the planet at your mercy.

Superman whimpered, so Tony quickened his pace, up and down, sharp, even movements, like a piston, like a _machine_ , and he was already hard, but the thought made him arch, dribbling precome down his cock and onto Clark's skin.

"Tony," Clark gasped. "Feel you... _smell_ you...all *around* me...don't stop!"

Afterwards he was going to have the readings from the glove's circuits. He was going to know *exactly* how much pressure it took to bring Superman over the edge. The thought made his own balls tighten, made him jerk his hand even faster, and Clark shouted and arched and _came_ , spilling hot all over the glove and his own stomach. There were several moments of silence, then, before Tony had time to register what was happening, their positions were reversed and a hard, hot, huge hand wrapped around him.

"Shit!" he gasped, unable to say more. He made a strangled sound and shot out onto Clark's hand, covering both of them with the force of his orgasm.

* * *

Tony wasn't sure what time it was, or how long they'd spent floating - sometimes literally - in a haze of sated pleasure. Finally Clark stirred slightly beneath him and sighed. Tony lifted his head and smirked at him.

"So, Mr. Kent," he said, "Would you be interested in meeting for another interview next week?"

Clark smiled at him sweetly. "Why, Mr. Stark, how unusual. I thought you were more a one-night-stand type."

"Hrm. True enough," said Tony, a part of his mind already busy with alloys and compositions and molecular structures. "But in your case," he went on, "I'm willing to make an exception."

 


End file.
